


Punch in the Heart

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier wants to help Geralt with a hunt. Geralt says no.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 200





	Punch in the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> second day of geraskier week :") so far so good  
> day 2 prompt -- monster hunt
> 
> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

“Geralt,” he whined, not for the first time. “Let me help you.”

He ignored him - _again_ \- and trudged through the woods. Jaskier huffed and stomped after him. Geralt spun around, stopping him with a hand against his chest. “Shh,” he growled, and Jaskier nodded quickly, covering his mouth with both of his hands.

Satisfied, Geralt sighed and shifted on his feet. “I don’t want you getting involved,” he said lowly. “Don’t you understand you might get hurt?”

Jaskier’s hand fell away from his mouth. “But the villager said the monster only shows itself to humans.”

“I’ll find a way,” he replied tersely. “Just… go back to the inn, okay?”

Jaskier hesitated for a moment, and for a blissful few seconds Geralt thought he was actually going to listen. But then he shook his head and pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring with determination. “I want to help.”

Geralt groaned and rubbed at his temples. “Jaskier,” he said, a warning. “ _Go_.”

“No,” he replied because for some reason he was never terrified of Geralt. “Let me help.”

Geralt scrubbed his hand down his face, slow. “You want to be bait,” he said, not a question. “You do understand that’s what you’re offering, correct?”

Jaskier squared his shoulders, puffing his chest out, and nodded curtly.

Geralt stared at him, searching his face. Jaskier was fearless to a fault; it was like he constantly forgot he was human. “Fine,” he snapped finally. “But you do exactly as I say.” He pointed a finger in Jaskier’s face, eyes hard. “Do you understand?”

Jaskier beamed like the sun. “Yes, sir,” he said, saluting like an idiot.

_Gods_ , he was an idiot. Geralt turned away, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement.

-

Geralt glanced at Jaskier one last time, squeezing his shoulders. “I’ll be right over there,” he said, pointing at a few trees. “I’ll jump in as soon as – ”

Jaskier gently retracted Geralt’s hands from his shoulders, squeezing once. “I’ll be fine, Geralt. _Go_.”

He hesitated for a few long seconds, still not happy with the plan, before he finally turned on his heels and walked away. Geralt hid in the trees, sword drawn, and watched as Jaskier stood in the middle of the field, obviously bored.

How he could be bored in a situation like this, Geralt didn’t know. Was he brave or just stupid?

_Both_ , Geralt thought with a snort, _Definitely both._

For a couple hours, nothing happened. Geralt frowned. Jaskier was staring at his feet, idly kicking at the dirt. He sighed and took a step forward, convinced this was pointless, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and he stopped, foot still in the air.

He slowly lowered his foot to the ground and adjusted his sword, watching closely.

Geralt watched, eyes narrowed, as the monster stepped out of the shadows. Geralt steeled himself, waiting for the right moment. The monster – the _creature_ – was ugly and hairless and looked diseased. More importantly, it was slow.

Jaskier obviously hadn’t noticed it yet. He was still staring at his feet and – Geralt focused – humming to himself.

Geralt took a step forward, preparing himself to attack, when the monster’s head – or what he _assumed_ was the head – snapped up in his direction. It was the head, all right, because Geralt got a glimpse of wild eyes. His stomach lurched and he stormed out from the trees.

“Jaskier!” he exclaimed. “ _Run!_ ”

Jaskier startled and took a step back and – fucking _fell,_ yelping in pain.

Geralt’s heart hammered in his chest as he ran for the monster, who took off in Jaskier’s direction. The monster was _not_ slow, the bastard. Moving like a flash of lightning, it reached Jaskier and lifted an arm in the air. Geralt caught sight of some scary looking claws and moved faster.

Curling in on himself, Jaskier covered his head with his arms. He didn’t even scream.

Somehow that just made Geralt feel sicker, weighed down by guilt and anger and –

The monster moved, fast, arm whooshing through the air, aiming straight for Jaskier. Geralt skidded to a stop, close enough, and shoved his sword through the abdomen(?) of the monster. Screeching, the monster fell with an audible _thud_ , landing right next to Jaskier, who was still curled up, hugging himself, completely silent.

Geralt took a deep breath and looked at his sword, bloodied. Shaking it off, he sheathed it.

“Jaskier?” he asked. No reply. He crouched down and noticed Jaskier was trembling. His heart squeezed, painful, in his chest. Fuck, he should’ve known better. “Hey,” he said, uncharacteristically soft. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head, hard, still not looking up.

Fuck, fuck. Geralt reached out, slow, and touched his fingertips to Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier let out a sharp gasp and jerked away.

“I know you’re scared, Jaskier,” he said, a little gruff. “But you’re okay. Look at me.”

Jaskier sniffed and slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little glassy. “ _Geralt_ ,” he said in a small voice. His head snapped to the side, peering at the monster’s dead body with wide eyes. His bottom lip trembled, and Geralt moved quickly.

He cupped Jaskier’s face, forcing him to look at him and only him. “Calm down. Deep breaths.”

Jaskier stared at him, whimpering. “I – I could _died_ ,” he whispered but it sounded more like he was talking to himself than anything. A few tears spilled down his cheeks and Geralt thumbed them away without even thinking.

“I know,” he soothed the best he could, “I know. Come on, deep breaths. Keep at it.”

Jaskier sniffled and took a shaky breath, eyelashes fluttering. Geralt nodded, thumbing his cheek.

“That’s it,” he said, quiet and encouraging. He waited a few seconds longer – until Jaskier was no longer trembling – to say again, “You’re okay, Jaskier.”

Jaskier nodded numbly. “I’m - I’m okay,” he said. Geralt didn’t exactly believe him, of course, but he wanted to get him out of there as soon as possible, so he shelved his worry for later and stood up, offering a hand to Jaskier, who took it.

Jaskier stood and winced. Geralt shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Jaskier?”

“Just – um, my ankle,” he said, a bit sheepish.

Geralt crouched down and rolled up the leg of Jaskier’s pants. His ankle was a little swollen, probably from the fall. He stood up and wrapped his arm around Jaskier again. “It’s not broken,” he said, rough, “Lean on me.”

Jaskier nodded, no fight in him, and leaned his weight against Geralt.

-

Geralt helped Jaskier to the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said, gruff, but –

“Please,” Jaskier said. “Don’t go.”

Geralt stared at him for a long, quiet moment before he nodded. He sat on the bed with him, their thighs touching. “I was just going to ask the innkeeper to draw a bath,” he said once he was settled. “The warm water should help with the pain.”

Jaskier nodded, silent, and stared at his hands, tucked together in his lap.

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. Cleared his throat. He needed to say something, he knew – he _wanted_ to say something – but he’d never been good with words. He’d never been good at comforting words, especially.

“Would you be sad if I died?” Jaskier asked, and, well –

Geralt was so taken back he didn’t know what to say. “Jaskier, why would you ask that?” he said finally.

“I don’t know,” he replied quickly and Geralt could see there were tears in his eyes again. “I just - ” his fingers twitched in his lap, curling into fists. “I want to know, but I know it’s not, uh, fair of me to just ask that out of – ”

Geralt reached out, taking Jaskier’s hands. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Honesty was truly sometimes the best policy, especially when Jaskier looked like he was unraveling in front of him. “I would be devastated.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said through a hiccup.

Geralt nodded. “You should know that.”

“I do,” he replied, fast. “Just, um – I needed to hear it, I think.” He sniffed. “Thanks.”

Geralt wanted to say he didn’t understand, but he _did_. More than he cared to admit, so he didn’t. He just squeezed Jaskier’s hands. “You helped me,” he said, “I couldn’t have done that without you.” He was stretching the truth a little, but sometimes it was okay to do that if it meant seeing Jaskier’s small hint of a smile.

“You’re so full of it,” Jaskier mumbled but Geralt could _see_ him coming back to himself.

Geralt nudged him. “How is it?” he asked, eyeing Jaskier’s ankle. He watched as Jaskier wiggled his foot and winced. “That’s what I thought,” he sighed, “Will you be okay on your own?”

Jaskier seemed to genuinely think it over. He nodded finally. “Yeah,” he said with a sniff. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he replied gruffly. “I’ll be right back.”

-

Twenty, thirty minutes later, Geralt was helping Jaskier step in the tub. He sunk down in the water and sighed, tilting his head back. “Gods,” he breathed. “That feels… _so good_.”

Geralt snorted and went to stand up, but once again Jaskier stopped him, wet hand clutching at the front of his shirt. He seemed to snap out of it and yanked his hand back.

“Sorry,” he squeaked. “Just, um. Can you stay?”

Geralt blinked at him, once. “Uh,” he said. “Okay.” He thought Jaskier had gotten over it, but he wasn’t about to send him spiraling again. He sat on the edge of the tub and watched, silently, as Jaskier situated himself.

“I’m sorry I’m so – ” Jaskier sighed, ripping his fingers through his hair. “You probably think I’m pathetic.”

Geralt for once did not think that at all. “You’re scared of death, Jaskier,” he said, perfectly even. He reached out and placed a hand on his wet shoulder. “That is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But you’re not,” he replied, fast. “I mean… how do you do it?”

Geralt hmmed thoughtfully, looking away. “I wasn’t afraid, Jaskier, because I had no _reason_ to be,” he admitted, running his tongue over his teeth, gritty from a long day, “I had nothing and no one. I had no reason to be attached to – ” he gestured aimlessly “ – any of this.”

Jaskier let out a soft, wounded sound. “That’s so _sad_.”

Geralt smiled, only because he knew Jaskier couldn’t see it, “But that’s changed recently.” He schooled his face, looking down at the bard. He wasn’t just fond of him. He cared about him. He enjoyed his company, even looked forward to it. Perhaps there would be no harm in telling him that.

“How?” Jaskier asked quietly. “What changed?”

“I met Yennefer,” he said, slow, “And Ciri,” he saw a flash of hurt in Jaskier’s crystal blue eyes, “And you.”

Jaskier perked up. “Wh – really?” he asked, like he’d just been told the greatest news.

Geralt nodded and placed a heavy hand back on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, Jaskier.” Then, because he was feeling exceptionally honest that night, he ducked down and pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s hair, mussed from the terror of the day.

Jaskier grinned and ducked his head, almost shy. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Thanks to you.”

Geralt hmmed, smoothing his hand down Jaskier’s shoulder, down his arm. His fingers itched to hold the bard’s hand, but he’d reached his quota of honesty for the day, so he settled for just restin ghis hand on Jaskier’s arm, “And I would do it again.”

Jaskier looked up, There were so many emotions in his eyes. Geralt felt very special to be at the receiving end of them, but that was something he would _certainly_ be keeping to himself. “I know,” Jaskier said. “I’ve always known.”

“Good,” Geralt grunted, meaning it.


End file.
